


The Boy From the Pictures

by TheInsomniacTree (WalrusofDestiny)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Spoilers: Volume 6 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalrusofDestiny/pseuds/TheInsomniacTree
Summary: That one scene, told from the girl's perspective.





	The Boy From the Pictures

It had been seven months. Seven months, 13 days, and 45 minutes since Deida had last seen her sister. Since she had seen her little sister, down on the ground, horrified by what she had just done to that poor… girl? Robot? She wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that after that, they cut the feed, and after that the next time she heard Pyrhha's name was seven months, 12 days, and 9 hours ago, from an Atlas official, telling them she had died in the Fall of Beacon. The next time she saw her sister was six months, 10 days, and 6 hours ago, at the reveal of her statue.

And it was to that statue that she was currently headed. She wasn't sure why, but she just had a powerful urge to see her sister. So, after work, she bought some of Pyrrha's favorite flowers, and got a move on. She didn't know why. Probably because she had seen the poster for the Fall of Beacon documentary at the theatre on the way to work. She had been opposed to them making that movie. Vehemently. The last thing Pyrrha would've wanted was a glorification of the horrors that befell her and her friends, to be, even in death, just another celebrity of war. There was no way she could gripe to her parents about it either. Pyrrha had never told them how much she hated it all, how much she hated the spectacle, the pomp and circumstance of her tournaments and appearances.

_She had been walking back to her room one evening. Pyrrha's door was slightly ajar. Pyrrha's door was never ajar. She was always very careful about the door to her room being closed. She liked her privacy. Deida peeked in to make sure everything was okay. She saw her younger sister staring angrily at her trophy wall._

“ _Is everything alright, Pyrrha?”_

_Pyrrha stared ahead. No acknowledgment, no pleasant greeting, something was deeply wrong._

“ _I want to be a Huntress,” Pyrrha stated._

“ _Well, I mean, I don't think that that's anything to worry about,” she consoled, gesturing to the wall of awards and gold medals. “After all, you're well on your way.”_

“ _No,” Pyrrha intoned. She blinked. She had never heard Pyrrha say 'no' before. “I don't know what a Huntress is yet, but this… I don't think that this is what it is. I don't- I don't want to do this. I want to be a Huntress.”_

She could count the number of times Pyrrha had cried past the age of 5 on one hand. That night was one of them.

She had always been Pyrrha's confidant. Which in turn, made this grief so much more lonely. Every speech, every showing of that goddamn movie, all of it made her think, every time, that this isn't what Pyrrha would've wanted. This isn't what her legacy should be.

She cleared her head and calmed her mind. Deida didn't want her sister to see her sad. They were alike in that regard, she supposed. Pyrrha had apologized to her the morning after that night. Apologized for making her worry. Imagine that, apologizing for being sad. Her sister had been one of a kind. So she put on a calm, happy face. To her surprise, she saw that Pyrrha wasn't the only one there. There was a boy, tall blonde hair. He began to move when he heard her coming, and when he did, she saw more of his face and realized that he was him. He was the boy from the pictures.

“ _So, Pyrrha, tell me about Jaune.” She had been on the phone with Pyrrha. She liked to check up regularly. She had always been Pyrrha's support, and she'd be damned if being a continent_ _apart_ _could change that._

“ _Oh! Well, Jaune is a great leader. A tad… inexperienced, but his constant effort and cheerful attitude are great inspirations to the rest of the team. Ren is, as usual-”_

“ _I'm not asking about the team, Pyrrha, I'm asking about Jaune.”_

“ _Well, I know you felt I should have been leader, but I can assure you, Jaune is far more-”_

“ _I'm not concerned with his leadership ability either.”_

“…  _Then may I ask why you're asking about Jaune?”_

“ _Well, it's just that I can't help but notice that, in every picture you've sent me, you are always right next to Jaune. And looking very happy about it too.”_

“ _...I'm not sure what you mean.”_

“ _I'm just saying, it's perfectly normal for sisters to talk about things like love. If you ever want to talk about your crush- not that I'm saying your crush is Jaune Arc,_ _but I am aware that it absolutely is- you can talk to me about it as much as you want.”_

_There was a pause for three seconds before Pyrrha spoke again._

“ _How much time do you have right now?”_

This was him. This was  _the_ Jaune Arc. The only boy, in the multitude of champions and heirs and future leaders who had courted her, that Pyrrha had ever fallen for. And he was leaving.

“It's really beautiful, isn't it?” She was stunned by how calm she sounded. Grace under pressure was another thing she shared with her sister, she supposed.

There was a pause. She didn't look at him. She didn't want to. It was selfish, but she didn't want to see the shock and sadness on his face. She just wanted to talk. After a second, probably coming to terms with the fact that he was speaking to a Nikos, he spoke.

“Yeah. Uh, w-why here?”

That's right. He didn't know anything about Pyrrha. That's one of the things Pyrrha had loved about him. That he was one of the few people who she knew liked her just for who she was at the present, not for her reputation from the past.

“She trained here. Sanctum Academy. Everyone was crushed when she chose Beacon over Haven. No one wanted to see her to go, but… it was where she wanted to be.”

It was the one time Pyrrha had argued with their parents. She had insisted she go to Beacon. She had told her parents she wanted to see more of the world, see what it was like outside of Mistral. Deida knew the truth though, that Pyrrha just wanted to get off her pedestal, that she just wanted to be normal, and make some normal friends. That's right.

“I'm just glad that she was surrounded by such amazing people.” For the first time, she looked at him. She needed him to know that. She needed him to know that he was amazing. That he was someone Pyrrha would talk happily for hours about. That he, Ren, and Nora had been the first real friends she had made, and that they were amazing for that, and that she would always be grateful for the joy they brought to her sister.

He looked at her, tears in his eyes. Clearly he had gotten the message. But then his face became dour again.

“She should be standing here.”

“She is.” Again, she was surprised by her own words, but she knew it was true. As she looked at him, she realized how different he was. From the pictures, from the Vytal Festival. He was taller, more muscular, thousands of miles away from his home, probably, but still there. Still carrying a sword, still standing. Looking at him, it was quite clear what Pyrrha's legacy was. Pyrrha's legacy was the lives she had changed. The hundreds of hours she had put planning training regimens to make the scrawny teenager she had seen in pictures over a year ago into the man that stood before her now. Pyrrha's legacy was the kindness she had left behind, that would cause this man to be here, still carrying a sash in honor of his fallen friend. Looking at this man, how different he was from the pictures where he and Pyrrha were always specifically a respectful distance apart, she could clearly see Pyrrha's legacy.

Deida looked back up at the statue. She had always been so proud of her sister, but now even moreso. She knew more than anyone how well Pyrrha knew Jaune, but she wasn't entirely sure how well Jaune knew Pyrrha. Pyrrha had valued her privacy, after all. She wanted him to know. She wanted him to know what Pyrrha was like, to give him some comfort. Or maybe she just wanted to talk about her little sister for a bit. It was probably both.

“She… understood, that she had responsibility… to try,” she began. That's right.

It had been seven months, 13 days, and 3 minutes since she had last heard her sister's voice.

_She had immediately answered when she saw Pyrrha was calling her._

“ _Pyrrha, are you alright?! What's going on?! The news is reporting swarms of Grimm in Vale!”_

“ _I'm fine, really, I just want to talk.”_

“ _Talk? About what? Is everything okay?”_

“ _I kissed Jaune.”_

“ _W-what? Pyrrha, now's not really the time to-”_

“ _Deida, please.”_

_She stopped. She had heard Pyrrha say 'please' countless times before, but somehow this time felt different._

“ _I kissed Jaune, and it was great, because he was so warm and soft and it made me so happy, and I want more than anything to do it again.”_

“I don't think she would regret her choice.” The words were coming out slower. This was months of emotion clogging her throat but she had to get them out. He needed to hear this. She needed to hear this. “Because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make.”

“ _Alright, so go do it again. Get yourself and Jaune somewhere safe and you can have the rest of your lives to kiss all you want. Doesn't that sound good?”_

_There were three seconds before Pyrrha spoke again._

“ _Deida, do you remember that night, years ago, when I left the door to my room open?”_

“ _Of course.”_

“ _I think, I think I've figured out what a Huntress is. And I was right, it's not about winning. Whether a Huntress wins or not doesn't matter. What matters is that they try.”_

“ _Pyrrha what are you doing?”_

“ _Good-bye, Deida, and thank you for being such a wonderful sister. I love you so much.”_

“ _PYR-”_

_The call ended. Pyrrha had hung up._

“And a Huntress is all she wanted to be.” More than anything, that's what she had wanted. That's what she had lived for, and that's what she had died for. And that was the saddest part, Deida thought. Her sister, her beautiful selfless sister, had given up kissing her boyfriend, long talks with her sister, hell, she had given up her childhood, all of that, just to die. And she could never understand why. She never understand what drove Pyrrha to do what she did. The world of Huntresses and Huntsmen was far removed from her own. All she could ever do was offer love advice and an ear to talk to.

They stood in silence for a moment. Then, Jaune spoke.

“Pyrrha never got the chance to graduate,” he said, slowly. “But she  _was_  a Huntress.” He looked at her. His voice rang with conviction, and his eyes shone with honesty.

Deida stared at him for a moment. She had never understood. She didn't know what a Huntress was, what it meant. She didn't know what Pyrrha's drive was, what her goal was. All she had of the person Pyrrha was at Beacon were fragments. She had been Pyrrha's confidany, yes, but that only meant she knew what Pyrrha chose to confide in her, and that clearly had not been everything. But this man, who had stood by her through all of it, who had shared the same drive, the same goal, could look her in the eyes and tell her that Pyrrha had been a Huntress in the end. She could feel tears forming. She pushed her glasses aside.

“Thank you.” She knew there was no way she could convey to Jaune how grateful she was that he had said that, but she had to… she had to try.

“Jaune!”

She turned to look. They also looked much different, but that was unmistakably Ren and Nora at the front entrance. So they all still traveled together. She had to go. These emotions were, were too much. She wouldn't be able to handle all three of them talking to her. While Jaune was looking at them, she put her flowers down, and with the stealth of the sister of Argus' most prominent celebrity, hurried into the trees.

As she walked, the tears started to pour. She was a horrible sister, really. She had just been to her sister's memorial, and yet, even if it was just a little, she was happy. She still wanted Pyrrha here, of course, and it still hurt that she wasn't, but, through it all, for all of Pyrrha's sacrifices, for all of her silent toil, she had made it. She had completed her life's dream. And while the movies and the statues painted a picture of a hero, there were three people who had gotten it right. The three who were standing back at the stature talking. They who, even while grieving, were still moving forward, still doing their best to live up to their fallen friend, because she had become their beacon. As long as those three kept trying, as long as she kept trying, Pyrrha would live on. Because, more than she was an idol, a friend, a lover, or even a baby sister, Pyrrha Nikos had been a Huntrees. They knew it, and now, thanks to them, she knew it too.

And that, that was something.


End file.
